A Game of Cat and Mouse
by GiveUsMerlin
Summary: When a new figure is introduced into Sherlock and John's lives, what will happen to their normal routine? Especially when this figure holds a secret that could damage everything.
1. Bored!

'Sherlock could you please just be quiet…'

John snapped loudly for the fifth time. All morning he'd had to listen to his - dare he say – friend and colleague, the notorious Sherlock Holmes, moan on and on in his irritating, monotonal voice about how bored he was. The criminal world was suffering a dry spell, a very dry spell, and both men were feeling rather at a loss without a case.

'If you need to solve something so badly Sherlock,' John continued,' then maybe you could go to Tesco and solve the case of the forever absent milk!'

John lowered his newspaper. This had fallen on deaf ears, Sherlock hadn't flinched. He remained in the position he always took, sat in his chair with his knees drawn up under his chin. His bright eyes appeared a little lost and absent, staring at the TV. Even with his blank expression. John knew his mind would be ticking. Jeremy Kyle's voice droned on in the background of the traffic outside and the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Neither of them had attempted a decent conversation for about three hours until Sherlock's snide comments and whining had started. But now it had stoped the flat was silent once again.

The rest of the day past pretty uneventfully John had pondered on whether to go out, but the sound of rain hammering on 221B windows made him reconsider. After finishing his newspaper he attempted to clean the flat. Nothing more than shuffling papers around and moving books from one cluttered surface to another. He stared out of the window for a long while watching a client dithering out in the cold as they debated whether to knock or not. John muttered to himself as the figure went marching back down the wet street.

Suddenly the front door slammed and Mrs Hudson's voice soon followed.

'Boys!' she called, neither replied and so her quick footsteps were heard tottering up the stairs and she flustered into the once silent room, 'Boys, I've been thinking this place needs a new face, I mean, you two are both bored rigid.'

She was answered by an unenthusiastic, dead silence. John simply gave her a wide smile. Sherlock did nothing.

'So,' there came a clatter from the kitchen as she began to clean,' I decided to let my goddaughter stay for a while, she's the daughter of my friend Margaret, she's from Edinburgh you know?'

John flashed a look at Sherlock, who again, hadn't flinched. John bought it upon it upon himself to reply.

'Sounds good' John rose his voice over the clattering, but Mrs Hudson continued to natter. Even though he did sound disinterested he did think the idea of a younger face in the flat was a good one. What could possibly go wrong?


	2. A New Face

'I don't want some girl coming in here and interfering with MY cases' Sherlock whined as John cleaned around him

'Cases?' what cases, Sherlock? You've been stuck in here going insane for weeks now,' John lifted up a bag of questionable body parts from the fridge and promptly threw it in the bulging dustbin,' anyway Sherlock it may be enjoyable, you may even have fun, o wait, no, you don't know fun. Now stop standing on the coffee table! I just polished that'

John smirked to himself on his last remark. He loved getting over on his flatmate. The sound of a taxi and voices floated through the open window.

'O God they're here,' Sherlock looked up at John as he ran to his armchair,' Sherlock, for the love of God act nor-'

Mrs Hudson entered, a beaming excited smile on her face, she clapped her hands as she spoke.

'Boys, this is Kitty' John and Sherlock both raised interested eyes at the door. Jon expected a small child to be dragged in. Instead, a girl shyly wondered in, clutching a suitcase in her hand. She stood uncomfortabley at Mrs Hudsons side and leaned onto one foot, trying to act naturally. She quickly placed her other leg down so she was balanced. The light coming in from the windows marked out her petite figure, shadowing her back and half her sculpted face. She reminded John of someone. Her personality appeared similar to her stance; anyone could tell she was nervous. She was shy quiet. On her right finger she wore a ring. Her slim, pale hands had a few bruises. She kept tucking a rogue curl of her thick hair behind her ear and rubbing her arms. She wore a long red sweater and dark jeans covered her thin legs and a pair of black studded boots. John averted his stare so not to appear creepy. He shot her a kind smile.

'Dr John Watson' he got up and shook her hand, she was freezing.

'Nice to meet you' her smile was kind and gentle, her lips were a rosy red. Her voice was calm and had a sweet tone. John noticed her shining green eyes rest on the silent figure which sat to her left.

'That's Sherlock Holmes,' the girl looked fully to her left, the man stared back at her. His hands were together in front of his face with just his fingertips touching. As he acknowledged her staring back he quickly turned his head to the side and stared at the wall,' don't take it personally, he's having a bit of a tantrum.'

The girl smiled politely again. She still appeared nervous so John smiled back at her.

'Adopted' came a deep voice. Both the girl and John jumped. Realising where it came from, Johns heart dropped, Sherlock was off.

'Pardon?' the girl fully turned towards Sherlock. He turned back from the wall and met her curious eyes. He cleared his throat and pushing off the arms of his chair rose to his feet. He towered above the girl.

'You're adopted'

'How do you-'

'Sherlock don't start' John's voice had an air of warning to it. He went to grab the girls arm which hung at her side. But she didn't budge.

'Firstly, you're stance. You are nervous so are evidently used to standing in front of people and having to make a good impression, to be judged by them. You are about 20? I say about 20, you're exactly 20 so too young for any business job. Now your accent-'

'What about my accent?'

'Don't interrupt. You got the first train down from Edinburgh…'

'How...'

'Look, if you keep interrupting I won't continue. Your eyes have slight bags underneath; you're tired so you've been up earlier than usual. You arrived in a cab so you didn't drive, so train it is. Now from Edinburgh, you have not one, but three sets of the whole punched left overs of train tickets stuck on your coat so you've changed trains multiple times. And your coats wet, yes, its raining here but your coats damp and the walk from the cab to here was short so where was there the last rain storm?' He thrust his phone in her face,' Edinburgh, approximate time at 6 o'clock this morning. But yes you're not Scottish are you, you have a London accent? There's nothing to draw a young, attractive girl of 20 all the way up to Scotland? You live there with adopted parents'

John looked at the girl warily. The girl smiled and her eyes lit up.

'That was-' she gasped

'Brilliant, amazing, wonderful' Sherlock rose to his feet and smirked at her,' John's already expressed that multiple times.'

The girls smile widened on her red lips.

'Don't interrupt Mr Holmes,' with a flick of her hair she walked towards the door, this was when she turned and looked at the strange pair,' nice to meet you Doctor Watson, and you, Sherlock'


	3. Sweet Melodies

'I don't like her,' mumbled Sherlock bitterly as he stood at the window in his blue dressing gown,' it's the hair'

'Sherlock, you can't dislike someone based on looks'

'I knew that' snapped Sherlock, raising his violin and tucking it under his chin.

'Of course you did' mumbled John into his coffee cup.

Kitty had settled into the now quiet life of 221B. In the time she hadn't spent drinking tea with Mrs Hudson downstairs she had tried, and failed, to win Sherlock over. She had tried taking an interest in his experiments. Even the heads in the fridge didn't scare her away, much to Sherlock's annoyance. John and Kitty had even gone out for a meal to get away from his grumbles of disapproval. He emitted one now as her light footsteps were heard running up the stairs. She never ate breakfast with 'the boys'. Reason being there was never anything to eat.

'What are you boys doing?' said the bright tone as Kitty came into the living room. Sherlock groaned and began to play as loud as he could,' Wow, cool, you play violin?'

Sherlock bought his melody to an abrupt end with a squeak, without turning around he snapped sarcastically,' No, I'm tap dancing'

Kitty giggled uneasily. Not taking the hint she walked over to the window, hands behind her back and craning her neck out with a curious childish smile.

'I used to play, can I?' John flinched as she touched the violin in Sherlock's firm grasp. John waited for the eruption behind his newspaper shield. To his surprise Sherlock loosened his grip. Kitty rested her chin and began to play. John raised his eyebrows at Sherlock's unamused glare. She was very good.

'Alright, Alright,' Sherlock snatched back the instrument and clutched it to his pyjama topped chest like a child who refuses to share its favourite toy,' no one likes a show off'

'Is that why no one likes you?'

'Oh, shut up!' snapped Sherlock, annoyed.

'Make me' Kitty half whispered. Sherlock took a step towards the irritable girl. He expected her to step back, but instead she stood firm, arms crossed. Their noses practically touched. Kitty mimicked Sherlock's notorious sly smile.

'Hamish, great boys name' came a voice from the corner of the room.

Both partied turned simultaneously in the direction of the voice.

'What?' the said together.

Before John could begin digging himself out of the whole his line had placed him in he noticed a figure at the door. It was a familiar figure. Sherlock groaned at its presence and began playing again. Kitty noticed the man. He was older, well he had grey hair. Thick stubble covered his chin. He was tall and had a slight beer belly. If he hadn't been so stern he may have been quite attractive. The man rolled his bright eyes and he spoke on regardless in a loud authoritative tone.

'Put some clothes on Sherlock, we need you'


	4. The Follower

'Did she have to come?' grumbled Sherlock to John in the back on the speeding police car.

'I can hear you, you know' Kitty turned to Sherlock,' and I'll be honest, I don't really wish to look at some dead person on my holiday' With a sigh she turned back around and stared back out of the window as London flashed by.

'Why did you come then?' retorted Sherlock, staring straight at the back of her head.

Kitty shifted her head but stayed looking forward. "I don't know. Seems more exciting than your dark, dingy flat."

John looked to his left and saw Sherlock roll his eyes and murmur under his breath. He crossed his arms and smirked, staring out of the window. John knew she was getting to him and him to her and frankly he found it quite entertaining. The weather wasn't miserable but it wasn't great either. He watched the rain drops flow down the window, racing to reach the bottom. Multiple black London cabs sped past them, along with the occasional red bus. He missed this. He missed the business. It was different after spending that time in Afghanistan. He had to consider that he'd been back for a while now so should've got used to it.

Whilst John was busy daydreaming, Sherlock was searching through cases on his phone.

"Latest from Scotland Yard says.."

"Four were murdered but none related.."

After a while the words seemed to jumble into one. For some reason he wasn't thinking straight. He kept looking up to Kitty and watching her. The splash of Chanel No. 5 she had put on earlier wafted underneath his nostrils and he closed his eyes, embracing the smell. Angrily, Sherlock shoved the phone into his pocket and stared out of the window. He was like a small child. Whatever he did he couldn't stop thinking about Kitty. Something like this had never happened before. The police car slowly came to a halt at the top of the street. From out of the steamed up window, Sherlock saw the familiar sight of a house in chaos. Policemen ran from the building to the car, men in all-in-one suits hung around outside.

Kitty trotted at Lestrade's side as he strolled confidently towards the house. Both were looking down to keep the now heavy rain out of their eyes. He sort of liked the look of awe she had. She babbled on about how she'd lived of crime books when she was little and had even considered being a police woman. She laughed at her last statement. Her laugh was like a melody and it made Lestrade laugh too.

Sherlock scowled at them. He stood by the car, taking in the surroundings. His coat flapped behind him in the strong wind and his coat collar rubbed his cheeks. He breathed heavily into his scarf.

'What's your problem?' John hissed as they began to follow Kitty and Lestrade down the street.

'I don't have a problem' Sherlock said bluntly, not looking at his companion.

'So what about all the flirting?'

'Flirting? John…'

'Ooo Kitty please play my violin,' John whispered in a high pitched voice, mocking him,' Kitty look at me with my cheekbones and coat collar.'

'John, I'm sensing some jealousy and I'm flattered but I-'

'Sherlock enough! You are so flirting' John laughed under his breath and shaking his head.

'O just shut up' Sherlock snapped, louder than he'd planned, causing one of the policemen to to flash them a glance.

'Make me' John stared up and Sherlock with a mocking grin and a wink.

'Will you two hurry up' yelled Lestrade. He stood at the door of the shabby terraced house. The police tape that twisted around the rusty iron fencing thrashed about in the wind. Flashing John a stern look Sherlock swept inside the dingy hallway. John trotted after, he knew he'd won.

'Where's this body then?' Sherlock' eyes flicked around, assessing the surroundings.

'Look what the cat dragged in'

John rolled his eyes as Anderson entered the small hallway.

'That's a bold statement, to begin with there's the problem of size-'

'Sherlock,' interrupted Kitty from half way up the stairs,' it's just a term of phrase, now come on'

Like an obedient puppy Sherlock followed her.


	5. She's Only Sleeping

'First door to your left' Lestrade called up the stairs.

Kitty hadn't seen a body before. Who had? She didn't know what to expect. She felt slightly sick just thinking about it. When she turned into the room she expected the worse. Yet there it was, just lying there, face down on the carpeted floor. The body wore old, shaggy clothes. It's once blonde hair was now limp and straw like. Its skin was a cold grey. Kitty looked over and met Sherlock's stare. She crossed her arms and raised a judgemental eyebrow.

'Impress me then'

'What?' Sherlock wasn't sure what she wanted him to do

'That's what you do isn't it? Impress people. Tell them about their lives, you did it to me remember?'

Sherlock tried hard to ignore her and not let her presence distract him; he could still smell the beautiful perfume. He shook his head and glared hard at the body. Argh, this was boring. There lay a young woman, around 30, alone, in an abandoned house. It was obviously suicide.

'You think its suicide, don't you?' Kitty hadn't stopped looking at him. John stood close at her side. His arms folded and legs slightly parted.

'Don't doubt him, just-' He muttered gruffly

'You think I'm wrong?' Sherlock scoffed unnaturally high-pitched.

Kitty crouched at the body's side. She looked deep into the face of a woman, she told herself she was only sleeping. 'It's not suicide, there's no wounds, no weapons, no blood,' she leaned close to the woman's parted lips and sniffed,' not an alcohol abuse and not a drug overdose – there's normally vomit or some…fluid'

John and Sherlock stood there, mouths open in shock. Kitty still had her back to them.

'The only proper post mortem would have to be done at a morgue somewhere,' she turned and dusted her hands. Stopping when she saw the two dumbfounded faces,' what?'

…..

Watching Sherlock try and prove her wrong was starting to get tedious, so Kitty decided to take a look around. She remembered Sherlock mumbling about someone called Anderson, From what was audible he wasn't the nicest of men. Kitty was turning around when she bumped into a quite short, cropped haired man.

'Do you mind?' he snapped at her.

She slowly blinked,' Oh I guess you're Philip Anderson?' he looked dumb found in his blue forensic suit and stared at her.

'Who are you? Another freak?'

'I'm here with Sherlock Holmes. He says you're not a nice person. I'm Kitty by the way' she raised an eyebrow.

'What else has he been saying about me then?'

'O nothing, just that you're a bit of a prick,' he rolled his eyes and got out his clipboard,' Oh, and you've been having an affair with this Sally woman, and something about knees.

She said this so innocently, as if doing the horrid man a favour. She sounded like this because she simply didn't understand. She walked off back towards Sherlock, turning when she heard him try to stop her. He looked red with anger and embarrassment. She better warn Sherlock not to go near him for a while. A long while.


End file.
